Page 8 of Against All Odds

I nodded slowly, biting the inside of my cheek. It was as if he saw how the radars in my head immediately started turning out of some instinct I couldn’t let go of, wondering how to cheat at this game. I hated how easily this sort-of-angel seemed to see through me. In life, I had always been able to hide behind my pokerface, but I was stripped bare now – without the pretense that had helped me survive… until it didn’t.

“So, what would be a good example of such a situation?” I asked, wanting to focus on the facts instead of dwelling on the past. “A situation where I could change the odds to steer my assignment toward the light?”

Jurrian gave a short nod of approval, stirring a strange sense of pride within me – apparently, I’d finally asked a right question. To my relief, the footage dissolved, and the mirror’s surface rippled briefly before it flattened once more. “Sometimes, when people’s poor decisions bring them into poor situations, they start praying – despite knowing better. Let’s say…” He paused, and I sighed when I realized he was about to take an example from my own miserable life again. “You are about to be stabbed to death just outside the casino you worked at. One of your customers found out you had been stealing from him, so he gathers his friends, and they wait for you outside after your shift. You know you got yourself into this situation, you’re about to pay the price, and suddenly, something unexpected happens. It’s a rural area – the chances of the police driving by at that exact moment are less than one percent, but your guardian angel, who’s been watching the scenario unfold, ups the odds from less than one to forty percent. Fate is on your side tonight, so the police car that was patrolling a couple blocks away and did not have a fixed route, suddenly feels an urge to check out the block the casino is located in. He drives by, just before the stabbing fest would have started, and your attackers run. Your life is saved, but you know that police usually never drive by at this hour.” He raised his eyebrows. “What would you think happened?”

“God,” I mumbled as I lowered my eyes, ashamed to admit it after a lifetime of denying His existence. “I would think God came to save me.”

“Exactly – and you’re not alone in that. Most humans would think of God, even the most convinced atheists. And what would you do as a result of this unlikely event?”

I sighed. “I suppose the right answer would be ‘bettering my life’, but…”

“But in practice, you most likely wouldn’t, would you? Maybe you’ll try for a couple of days or weeks – but then the shock fades, and you’d go back to your old ways.” He hummed. “That’s the problem with most humans. You’re so rusted into your chains, it’s almost impossible to break free. Almost.”

I spread my arms in frustration. “So what you’re saying is I’m on a near-impossible redemption mission.” It wasn’t a question.

Jurrian nodded slowly, never taking his investigating eyes off me. “Do you see now, Seren, why I advised you against choosing the assignment?”

I let my breath escape. The information was making my head spin, and I wished I could just log out of this conversation – but I couldn’t. This was my new reality now, and as abstract as it all sounded, it also felt painfully real.

“So how do I know when to intervene?” I asked, dumbfounded.

Finally, Jurrian smiled – a smile that failed to hide the sadness behind it. “You don’t,” he said. “You use your judgment. You assess the odds and decide to act or not.”

“So what you’re saying is I have to guess?” I laughed at the absurdity of it all. “My fate is a game of roll-the-dice?”

He looked at me, and for a moment, I thought he was about to say more. But instead, he raised his staff.

My jaw dropped when the clouds parted, revealing a gleaming, lightly vibrating beige surface.

“Come with me,” Jurrian said, unbothered by my shock. “I will show you how to move between the liminal realm and the living realm… and how to assess and alter probabilities.”

Chapter 4.

Raya

On the bike ride home, I cried so hard I could barely breathe. The tears came with ragged gasps, shaking my body so violently, cars beside me honked. Was I even staying in the bike lane?

Who cares. Clearly, no one cares if I die.

I couldn’t remember when I took my last bump, but the coke must’ve been out of my system by now – because the focus I’d felt before was gone, and all that was left was a terrible nausea and the shame of what I had done.

My memories of tonight were only flashes and glimpses, but one thing was engraved into my retina: that moment Rebekah kissed that pathetic excuse of a man, right after she manipulated me into buying her a drink. How could she have played me like that? How could I have let that happen? And that awful sound of the glass shattering against the wall – had I really done that? I must have, because next thing I knew, those brutes had dragged me out of the club, sternly telling me I was banned from Catchphrase for life. I could still feel the bruises.

Bummer. Banned from the only club in the city on the first night it opened. Who could top that?

But worse, what should I say to my roommates tomorrow? If they didn’t want to kick me out before, they surely would now. Could they legally do that? Maybe I should leave first to save myself from the humiliation.

Pain. A sharp, nasty pain shot from my hands through my whole body. I tried to blink the world back into vision, only to realize I’d fallen to the ground and landed on my hands and knees – and fuck, my knee also hurt. I lifted my trembling hand and groaned at the bloody cuts. Had I fallen with the bike? Speaking of, where was my bike?

I tried to stumble to my feet, even further disoriented by the cars racing past. After two failed attempts, I succeeded.

I blinked, cursing myself and those damned cocktails as I looked around. Blinked again.

Where the fuck was I? I did not recognize this road. Had I forgotten my way home? My sense of direction had always been terrible, and I had only lived in this flat for a few months.

My phone. I just needed to open Maps and—

My breath hitched when I reached into my bag and gripped empty air.